«Listen to me.» Viryl said patiently, holding the old man by the shoulders. «That monster is playing cat and mouse with us. If we want to get out of here alive, you have to tell me everything you know.»

«Get out of here alive?» the man asked sarcastically. Then he turned his head away from Viryl’s intense gaze, toward the snow, and laughed bitterly.

«Yes. We are knights. We can protect you, we can defeat that monster. But we must know what we are fighting against. You spoke of Velthan’s son, so you know her cult. You have to tell me everything you know.»

The old man listened to Viryl’s words, but nothing changed in him. There was not even a hint of hope in his expression. Nevertheless, perhaps to vent his pain, the man began to tell his story.

«I am Geronor, mayor of Valacqua, the southernmost village in the Oiran basin. In ancient times, too many generations ago to count, pagan beliefs in hatred to our Lord Sylyphyr survived in this swamp. They were cruel, bloodthirsty customs, but such was the good that our ancestors drew from the pact with that devil that they would never have dared to put an end to their own heresy. They were dark times, in which the emperor would never have taken action to defend us peasants and hunters so miserable from the Fekoro of the mountains, therefore each village of the basin found in its son of Velthan its champion.

As I said, there was a conspicuous price of blood to pay cyclically to receive a new blessing from Velthan. There came a time when his son became old or devoured by madness and had to be suppressed. A new son had to arise. Then a champion from the neighboring villages came and executed the champion who had become unreliable, collecting his incoagulable blood in a chalice. Then he impregnated a virgin of the village of his choice. At the end of the gestation, the primigravida was sacrificed. The fruit of her womb was extracted on a granite altar, and the woman was flayed to make a mat on which to lay the newborn… then… then the baptism in the incoagulable blood obtained from the old son of Velthan was carried out.»

As he retold the abominable ritual, the man gagged. Anker, who had been able to find a blanket of felted wool, placed it on the old man’s shoulders. Having heard only his last words, he observed: «What futile cruelty the ancients resorted to!»

«It was not futile. The ritual was rigid, but it always hesitated in success. Already in the first months after birth, the signs of metamorphosis began to be observed. It was the entire community that took care of the child. A wet nurse fed him and the village priest… priests so to speak, facades, complicit figures artfully placed in their seats so as not to arouse the suspicions of the Inquisition… well, I was saying, the priest prepared a room in his chapel to raise him. The entire town offered clothes, food, furnishings to allow the child to grow healthy and vigorous. Velthan's son developed monstrous bird-like characteristics until the age when he learned to speak, then he began to understand how to control his transformation. Once his development was complete, he was able to take the likeness of a human, of a crow, or a gigantic hybrid creature.

These traditions were never questioned as long as we were under the false aegis of the empire, but when the Communes rose up and declared their independence, when the representatives of Belladia came to offer us concrete protection… it became increasingly difficult to accept the bloody mishaps that happened from time to time, the inevitable flaws in an imperfect system that left no alternatives.»

«What do you mean, by mishaps?» Viryl pressed.

«The sons of Velthan developed an uncontrollable appetite for meat, raw meat. An appetite that, if not satiated, drove them mad. As long as there were predators to defend the villages from, there was no problem, they fed on them. Then, if the predators ran out, they began to devour the livestock. Then the livestock would begin to run low and they had to be prevented from consuming it to avoid the risk of famine. So, sometimes our ancestors found themselves in need of sacrificing the villagers. Once they had tried human flesh, however, the children of Velthan began to prefer it, and it was almost always necessary to put them down before their appetite made them uncontrollable.

Usually these incidents were contained before the death toll got too high, but about three centuries ago in Veltagia a catastrophe occurred. A particularly narcissistic son of Velthan became addicted to human flesh. He knew his end was near, and so he decided to eat every single inhabitant before one of his colleagues was sent to take care of his execution. The entire Veltagia was exterminated. That event threw the entire community into confusion. After a series of hard-fought popular assemblies held throughout the valley, the majority decided to turn their backs on the ancient deity and its rituals. Those who opposed were expelled and sent to Veltagia to rebuild the devastated village, free to cling to their wicked traditions.

From that day on, however, we have lived in the grace of God, we have become part of the territory under the jurisdiction of the Free Commune of Belladia, we have toed the line, paying every tax and every tithe, and we have been protected by the knights of the Order of Libertas. For centuries we have had no more contact with the Veltagians, to the point that we began to forget about them.

About twenty years ago, the balance that had been achieved, which seemed as solid as an iron beam, collapsed. I don’t know why it happened, but the knights of Libertas began the extermination of the Fekoro and Ferenkelt of the mountains. The last son of Velthan, who until then had remained hidden in Veltagia, began to feel hungry and to look for nourishment in the surrounding villages. As long as it was a few oxen and a few sheep, we let it go. During the following decade, things got worse and worse. The inhabitants began to disappear… in just four months we lost two men, three women, five children… it couldn’t go on like this, do you understand?»

«And so you organized a punitive expedition. At last.» concluded Anker, with a stern look.

«Don’t think it was a choice to be made lightly, son. The Veltagesi were simple people, and their blood was also our blood, but our anger had by then become uncontrollable. That night our hands were soiled, and will forever be before the eyes of the Lord. We struck them in their sleep, when the son of Velthan is most vulnerable, because he dreams of his mother's womb. We put every peasant to the sword. We left them there, like beasts, in the square, at the feet of their idol. Then we entered their blasphemous chapel. We crept up to the attic of the son of Velthan. He slept peacefully, he looked like a child of less than ten years old. The aim was to stab him in the neck, but none of us could decide who should raise their hand against him. A fellow citizen lost patience and struck, but he was not decisive and did not wound him mortally. The demon awoke and in pain croaked with a horrible voice, a grim screech, enough to make the blood run cold…»

Viryl and Anker exchanged a look. They had heard that chilling cry themselves, on the Horn of Morghorou.

«In a few moments he transformed into a colossal bird, more than twelve feet tall. He threw us off, and he swooped out of the rose window of the attic, shattering the glass. He never returned. At first we feared that his vengeance against our village was imminent. That in a few days or months he would come for retaliation. Then, as time passed, our unforgivable act faded from our conscience… and finally, today…»

«Is there a way to kill him, other than murdering him in his sleep?» Viryl asked, getting to the point.

«Oh, no, that being is invincible. Of course, when he sleeps he is vulnerable like any other human. The ancients already knew of this weakness, but in order not to upset Velthan by taking one of his children away while he was talking to her, they never dared. But in the wake, the only one who could stand up to a son of Velthan and defeat him was a son of Velthan himself.»

«Of course, of course. We’ll see about that.» Viryl replied, showing a certain confidence in his abilities. Geronor, however, did not seem at all reassured. He simply shivered, clutching the blanket more tenaciously around his body.

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«Viryl, it will start to get dark in an hour. Pass me one of your warming potions and let’s go.» said Anker, who was starting to feel cold himself.

Viryl passed him a flask, then bent down to take Geronor’s arm and help him up. He said, «Come, I’ll put you on my horse. We would have liked to go back to Meridania, but at this point I think it’s safer to take you to Belladia. Tomorrow you will go to the guards and tell them what happened in this village.»

The old man let himself be pulled up passively, and had nothing to complain about the plan proposed by Viryl. The state of abandonment into which Geronor had fallen would certainly not have allowed him to protest.

The knight and the fallen, escorting the old mayor, left behind the crumbling village of Valacqua, disappearing into the increasingly dense snowfall.

*****

«Anker, boy…» Viryl began to say as they left the village behind, trudging through the snow and leading his massive friesian horse by the hand: «You better prepare for the battle that lies ahead. There are a few basic rules to keep in mind when fighting a Fearkan.»

Anker, for once, was intent on listening with his mouth shut.

«First, Fearkans, like any living being, can be killed. The arcane energy of the Astral Entities that pervades them cannot change their essence, which remains that of the animal that created them. Second, do not underestimate any of its attacks and movements. Keep your distance, and avoid any possible contact until you have decided where to strike. If it attacks you, dodge and do not block. If it looks at you, do not return its gaze. If it speaks to you, do not respond. I think I have already explained this to you, but arcane power does not work like magic. There may be some logic to it, but if there is, we haven’t gathered enough data to figure it out yet. And then, if things get ugly…»

As Viryl spoke, the silhouette of the young woman Anker had met in the attic of the deconsecrated church emerged from the gusts of ice crystals. Viryl interrupted her lecture, and the old mayor began to fidget on the horse’s back.

The girl limped toward them and said, «You sure know your stuff, bearded old man. Let’s see what you can make about this!»

The woman’s transformation was instantaneous, like the trigger on a wind-up toy. Her form arched forward in an explosive growth of black feathers. Viryl instinctively threw himself sideways into the snow, assuming he would be the target of the first attack. But those were not the intentions of the gargantuan bird, which with a snap of its beak severed the head of the helpless Geronor and swallowed it.

The decapitated corpse fell flaccid, spilling jets of warm blood on the snow, and the terrified horse fled towards the swamp. Even Anker's steed became fearful at the sudden appearance of the hideous monster, and threw him off his saddle, making him take a tumble to the ground.

The Fearkan did not give Viryl any respite, and tried to plant the powerful and sharp claws of its right paw in his back, but Viryl managed to roll away from the grip and with his spell “liquefaction and solidification of water” made a stalagmite of ice rise from the ground that pierced the black tarsus of the animal.

The beast raised its bleeding paw and croaked in pain. Seeing how tenacious Viryl was in responding to his attacks, it decided to take it out on Anker. The knight was barely recovering from his fall, and was sitting with his legs bent, trying to find the strength to pull himself up.

The Fearkan swooped down on him and crushed him to the ground with its wounded paw. Then it bent its back and neck, sinking its coriaceous mandibles into Anker's left trapezius, who screamed desperately as his body tissues were torn apart.

When the bird tried to tear a large morsel from the bloody flesh of the knight, a reddish spark passed through its beak, forcing it to interrupt its meal.

The bird then puffed out its chest and raised it to the sky, spread its wings, and in a heartbreaking and distorted voice howled, expressing a feeling that seemed to be consternation and dismay: «My mother rejects your soul!»

But then it lowered its head again on him, and added cruelly: «But it will certainly not stop me from taking your life.»

The Fearkan rested the middle claw of its paw on Anker's chest, slightly to the left. He savored the moment it would drop between his ribs, piercing his heart. Anker had no strength to resist that immense weight, and he gritted his teeth, struck by the pain in his left shoulder.

When Anker's fate seemed sealed, the monster arched back and howled again in pain. It had been pierced in the back by one of Viryl's javelins, and in its hollow tip the weapon carried a surprise.

One of the magic crystal bullets that Viryl had recovered from hir destroyed shack and that he had saved for the occasion, was now firmly embedded in the beast's tough musculature, and inexorably exploded with disruptive force, throwing the javelin away and opening a bloody hole in the monster's raven plumage.

The shock wave was so devastating that even an imposing being like that was thrown away into the snow. The Fearkan wanted to get up immediately, or at least scurry away, but his aching body wouldn’t respond.

«Did you feel that one, you son of a mighty bitch?» Viryl asked, showing off his usual elegance.

Anker finally found the strength to stand up and gulped down one of the vials of Venemesta that this time was carrying in his belt. The bleeding stopped, and his tissue began to regenerate. However, it wasn’t an immediate process and his left arm dangled lifelessly, its brachial plexus having been severed by the monster’s pecks.

«So, Viryl… you think she’s not safe to get close yet? I think she has no more strings to her bow,» Anker said, brimming with hatred and lust for vengeance. He drew his saber, unable to enchant it, and approached the dying monster with slow, shuffling steps. He turned around and took a moment to watch the convulsive rise and fall of its immense chest in labored breaths.

«Madja sends you her regards, filthy beast!» he bellowed, and began to repeatedly plunge his blade between the being's shoulder blades, aiming to pierce its lungs.

At the third stab, the monster, with a groan, curled up on itself, and kicked Anker, who blocked it with the blade, but was thrown back a couple of yards. The being dug its claws into the ground and with all the strength it had in its thighs launched itself at Viryl, who was ready to throw his second javelin at its jugular. This one also had a magical projectile embedded inside that exploded, opening a cavity in the creature's neck.

As it was tossed back, the Fearkan spread its wings and flapped them convulsively, managing to keep its balance.

Back on its feet, the monster charged at Viryl again, blood dripping from its throat. It hovered in midair and lunged at him, trying to grab him between its claws. Viryl wasn’t surprised that the monster responded to the second blow better than the first, so he tried to protect himself by summoning an ice shield, but it didn’t stop its advance. The monster’s claws broke through the crystalline wall and grabbed Viryl by the shoulders.

«Oh no, I’m not done with you yet!» Anker exclaimed, and pulled three explosive automaton drones from his belt, which shot up to the creature’s already battered back and exploded, tearing it.

Disturbed by the impact, the Fearkan lost the grip on its injured paw, and Viryl took advantage of this to unsheath his cutlass and cut the tendons of the other leg. After working on it for a good twenty seconds, Viryl managed to free himself and fell on his bottom. The Fearkan also failed to maintain the airborne stall, and fell on top of him.

Anker in the meantime had started to charge with his saber low, intending to deliver a wide slash, while Viryl, under the feathered belly, tried to lift him and slash him with his dagger, but the blade was not long enough to make a path through the thick dermis and plumage.

Anker had now reached the ideal point to inflict his lash, and he charged it by twisting his torso and planting his feet forcefully on the ground, but just as the blade was gaining speed, the terrible bird vanished before his eyes. Or rather, it scurried away. It shrank to the size of a common crow and fluttered as high as it could, hiding itself in the flurries of snow.

Anker’s saber blade passed an inch from Viryl’s nose, and Viryl’s dagger pointed menacingly at Anker’s abdomen. The knight and the fallen exchanged a fierce look of understanding. They had won.

Anker held out his good hand to Viryl and helped him up onto his legs.

«I think the horses are gone,» Anker said, turning toward where he assumed the swamp was. The frozen fog that surrounded them seemed to be starting to close in around them, and its gray was growing darker. The sun was almost setting now, and finding their way out of the Oiran basin would soon be an insurmountable task.

«Yeah, kid. I think we better get a move on and get out of here on our own two feet.»